


He'll Always Come Home

by Nythil



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Also written at like 3 AM, Probably terrible but if I have to suffer so does the rest of the fandom, This is just pure angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 15:50:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9614864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nythil/pseuds/Nythil
Summary: Merlin never really left Camelot, or Arthur. He'll always come back.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is the first thing I've written for Merlin, but I wrote it at 3 AM while being horribly sleep deprived so don't expect too much. It's just an idea that I couldn't shake. It's pure angst, but there's an explanation at the end in case you don't understand what happened. I hope you enjoy this, as bad and as short as it may be. Feel free to leave a comment if you wish!  
> (The characters will likely seem at least somewhat OOC, and that's actually on purpose and is addressed below the fic.)

Merlin stretched his neck, willing the ache to go away. Once again, Arthur had him up at the early hours of the morning to run around for him. How the royal prat managed to find so many chores for him to do was a truly a mystery. Just as Merlin put down the laundry he was holding, a voice echoed down the hall.  
"MERLIN!" 

The warlock rolled his eyes before trotting off towards Arthur's quarters, not even bothering to knock on the door before he opened it.  
"Yes, Sire?"  
"Honestly Merlin, I don't know where you go all day. Aren't you forgetting to do something?" Arthur crossed his arms with an expectant look.  
"Umm...I brought you breakfast..." Merlin shrugged.  
"Merlin, there's a feast today," exasperation bled into Arthur's words, "and you haven't brought any of the clothes I need. You're the most useless servant I've ever met." The corners of Arthur's mouth tugged upward slightly.  
"I remembered! I was just...busy?" Merlin's excuse was weak, and he knew it. He turned to leave without anymore defence on his behalf, hand reaching for the door knob.  
But his fingers went through the air without meeting anything. The door was gone. 

Merlin blinked. The door was there seconds ago, and surely if there was magic involved he would have felt it.  
"Merlin?"  
He turned around to face two of Arthur, one healthy and dressed for a feast and the other barely standing, bloody and wounded. Merlin could feel his face drain of blood as a wave of panic went through him.  
"Arthur?"  
The healthy Arthur simply smiled, as though Merlin had told a joke. The bloody Arthur fell to his knees with a grunt of pain. Whether or not it was the real Arthur, Merlin didn't stop to think before he was on his knees next to him, holding the fallen Arthur in his arms.  
"Just hold me...please."  
"You can't die, it's not your time, Camelot still needs you Arthur, I still need you! Stay with me." Merlin's breathing hitched as he held onto Arthur, as he watched his king's eyes close and his chest still.  
And then he was gone. Both the healthy Arthur and the dead one had vanished leaving Merlin on the ground alone, tears running down his cheeks. He looked up, ready to search for the source of whatever was causing this, but the entire room had changed. It was so blurry, almost like a faded memory. He shut his eyes and opened them again, as if clearing his vision.

Merlin closed his fists, feeling the cold around him for the first time in years. Tattered clothing covered his body, a collection of whatever jackets he could find abandoned in the streets. The back alley he sat in was wet with snow and dimly lit from yellow street lamps. He couldn't feel his toes or finger tips anymore. He couldn't tell where he was. There was no street like this, no lamp like this, and no clothing like this in Camelot. There was no weather like this in Camelot - it never got so freezing.  
Maybe if he shut his eyes once more, things would go back to normal. Maybe this was just a nightmare, and if he closed his eyes, he would wake up and Arthur would be there, yelling at him for falling asleep on the job. If he just closed his eyes - 

"MERLIN!"

He was back. Arthur was there, the door was there, Camelot was there. He was home.  
Overhead, in a modern back alley, a broken man stared into the distance and ignored the world around him, dreaming a long gone time. Because Merlin never really left Camelot, or Arthur. He'll always come back.  
After all, he never really left.

**Author's Note:**

> For those who didn't quite understand it:  
> Pretty much the idea is that after a certain amount of time of being immortal, Merlin's mind just breaks and he lives his time with Arthur over and over again, while in the real world time passes on and he lives on the street. If he could die he would have years ago. He has rare moments of clarity. Sometimes he knows when and where he is, sometimes not. But he always goes back to Arthur. Arthur probably seemed pretty OOC, and that's on purpose. Because at this point it isn't even a proper memory of Arthur, it's a dream that Merlin's mind creates to protect him after centuries of being alone while everyone around him dies. Even Merlin isn't really the same person at that point, he's a shell of what he was and living through faded and idealized memories of his time in Camelot.  
> I hope this fic was okay despite being written while sleep deprived, and thank you for checking it out!


End file.
